X7 ^^/!^/^^^^C^ /^^y^^^^ /^i^^^^^yj ^-/f^^. ^±. •■^y*^^ Bebonsf)ire ^cenerg : ITS INSPIRATION IN THE PBOSE AND SONG OP VARIOUS AUTHORS. THE REV. WILLIAM EVERITT, RECTOR OF ST. I.AWRKNCK, KXKTF.R. A l.iiid of honey, milk, and cream, Where showers are sweet as roses' tears , Romantic as a poet's dream, And fresh as the primeval years ; A region rich in fairy tales, _ Where happy mortals go in quest Of rarest joys ; such are the vales Of my dear love-land in the West. Edward Capf.rn. PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM POLLARD, NORTH STREET, EXETER. 1884. 6^ O-l^t^JL, 14^.i.<,i^f-cL^\^t-(J^ Cl, CU^J^l eu. f^Bt'L^JUcL o-iC. t/C^ ^tt. ^\ Preface. T have here brouglit together several prose and poetical pieces, descriptive of, or suggested by, tlie fair ami diversi- fied scenery of Devonshire; in the belief that this Collection will prove that for excellence of scenic litei'ature, as well as for beauty of scenery, Devonshire stands pre-endnent amono- the counties of England. My grateful acknowledgments are due and are hereby rendered to all those who have kindly permitted me the insertion of copyright matter, and, in particular, to Messrs. Macmillan and Co., for quotations from the writings of Charles Kingsley ; to Miss King and the proprietors of the Standard and Eraser's Magazine, as representing the well-known name of Richard John King ; to Mr. Edward Capern for several poems ; to Mr. F. G. Heath, for copious extracts from the Fern World and Fern Paradise ; to the Rev, G. Tuckwell for the free use of North Devon Scenery ; to the Rev. M. G. Watkins and the Gornhill 3fagazine for a paper on Devon Lanes, which has also appeared in a little volume called " In h- PREFACE. tlie Country" (Satchell tt Co.): to the representatives of the late Dean Alford, Rev. K. S. Hawker, Rev. F. Phillott, Miss Raeliel Evans, Mr. Mortimer Collins, and Mr. G. H. T>i'\ves : to tlit- jiroprietors of the Queen, Pall Midi (iKzclk. and Dail;/ Te/('i/rlished for the first time, as f(jv instance the sonnets t)f Mr. I. W. N. Keys. Tlie authors and proprietors in oN'ery case reserve the copyi'ight. W. EVEIUTT. iM^M^im^ cjTontentsi, To Devon To the Devouiaiis Song of the Devniiiau Devonia A Sigh for Devon Sonnet to Devon To Devon To Devon The Fern Paradise The Combe Mouth - The Vales of Devonia The Devonshire Glen - Mamage like a Devonshire Lane Devon Laue^ A Devonshire Lane - Devonshire Hedges ami Lane> Devonshiie Hedges in Februaiy Dartmoor Scenery Dartmoor Dartmoor Dartmoor The Rugged Dartmoor Dartmoor The Children in the Snow- To Pew Tor ^ Dartmoor after Snow - Storm at Night on Dartmoor P'ingle Bridge The Feruv Moorlands -yWm. Broivnc /• Anon. [•AGE 1 - 2 - Edioard Capcru o - Rec. Charles Slrun'j - - 4 - E. Caper a ■ Rev. W. Pulling - 5 - 6 -^■Joseph Cottle ^ Rev. J. Bidlake . P. G. Heath 7 - 8 - 8 - ^Charles Kinoslei/ - E. Cfipern - EdinOur'jh Jtirieiv • - IG - 14 - 15 - Rev. J. Marriott - 17 - Rev .U. G. Watkin.% - 18 - Pall Mall Ga-.ette - - 30 - R. ./. Kiny - A. T. C. - 35 - 43 - A'. /. Kiiif) -^ N. T. Carriwjton - -Mm. Howitt - . Felicia Hemans - 47 - 54 - 56 - 58 '^ Rev. E. W. L. Daries - 59 W. II. Hamilton Rogers - 62 - /. Johns - 6.^ yrJ. W. N. Keys < M. A. P. - 68 - 68 - Sophie Di.Kon - 69 - _ Rev. S. Rotvc ^' F. G. Heath - 72 - 74 VI COXTEXT,^. A Proapuct on Dartmoor - Sjij/iit; Dixon PAGE 83 Lustleigh • Jiev. S. Jioicc - 86 Haj-tor ^- Western Miscdlann - - 87 To Bel.stuUL- T(jr - Anun. - 89 To the Lark on Dartmoor - S. Emett - 90 On Bair Down • Sophie Dixon - 91 On the East Ockmeiit - Sophie Dixon - 92 At Princetown - F. B. Doveton - 93 Craumere - Rev. 8. Rowc - 94 A Devonshire Trout Stream '- R. J. Kiwj - 9« By the Dart - Anne Vristall - 1U2 Dartmeet - J. C. - 103 To the Rivei- Dart - Rev. 11. T. Whitfeld - 104 At Lover'.s Leap - J. Bradford - ior> River of Dart Mortimer Collius - 10(3 The River Dart - Si/dnei/ Ihdyes - 107 Dartside ('harks Kinysieji - no Hartland '- Rev. 0. Titgwell - Ill Clovelly - Rev. G. TugiveU - 114 Clovelly from the Pier - Charles Dickens - 117 The Hobl)y, Clovelly - - E. Capcrn - 118 Clovelly - R. S. Hawker - 121 Clovelly and the Hobl)y "- F. G. Ifeath - 122 The Torridge • E. Capcrn - 129 Bideford - Charles Kin^sley - 130 To Bideford - E. Capern - 131 Bideford Bridge - Charles Kingsley - 133 Braimton ]5nrrows ^ Rev. G. Tugicdl - 134 Sunset from the Cap.stone Hill ■ Anne Irwin - 136 Trees in Ilfracombe - - Anne Irwin - 138 IJy the Sea, Ilfracombe - Sir A. dc Vere - 138 Ilfi-acombe Lanes - G. II. Lewes - 139 Ilfracombe - Rev. G. Tugwell - 142 A Word for C'ombmartin - Anne Irvin - 143 Lynmouth - Robert Sou the;/ - 144 Music of the Lynns - • Rev. II. Ilaverynl • - 14.") The Valley <.f Rocks - - Robert Southei/ - 145 The Kiver Lyu, Watcismcot - I>c,ni .ilford - 11 ti Lyn-Cleave - Dean Alford - 147 Lynmouth - Dean Alford - 147 CONTENTS. Tii Valley of Lynmouth - . L. E. L. • PAGF 149 The Lyn The Oentleman's Magazine 150 The Valley of Rocks - • L.H.L. 150 Lynton ■ J.K. 151 Watersineet, Lyn and the Se;) ■ Rev. 0. TugucU. 152 Lynton E. Cajtm-n 154 Valley of Rocks ■ E. Capern 155 Watersmeet Rev. F. Phillott 155 Lynton to Barnstaple < The Daily Telegraph 157 The River Axe J. H. Merivale 158 An Old-Fashioned Corner ■ R. J. King 164 Near Axmouth : The Golden Land - F. T. Palgrave 168 Branscombe W. H. Hamilton Rogers 169 A Devonshire Watering Place R. J. King 171 Bonnet to the River Otter S. T. Coleridge 178 The Vale of Otter Rev. G. J. Cwnish - 178 From Colyton Church Tower J. Farmer 180 The River Otter Rev. Lewis Oidley - 180 Ladram Bay Rev. Le\ois Oidley - 182 From the Westdown Beacon, Budleigl 1 Musopolus 184 Salterton A June Evening near Budleigh Sal terton Miisopolus 186 The Vale of Ide ■ Sir J. Boioring 187 The Praise of Isca ■ /. //. Merivale 188 Study near Exeter Musopolus 190 Evening Walk by the Exe Anon. 193 On Ide HOI (overlooking Exeter) Walter Rew 194 Sonnet to Chudleigh - Rev. Wm. PuUinrj - 195 Babbacombe Rev. C. Strong ■ 195 From the Rock-Walk, Torquay Rev. C. Strong • 196 Torbay and Torquay - Charles Kingdey 196 The Wives of Brixham ' M. B. S. • 198 Townstal Church, Dartmouth ■ Sydney Hodges 201 Compton Hall Rev. H. J. Whitfeld ■ 203 Down the Dart Rev. H. J. Whitfeld 205 Buckfast Abbey R. J. King 207 On Portlemouth Hill : A Sonnet S. Wills • 209 The Home of the Sea Fern F. G. Heath . 210 Plymouth ■ ^ Rev. C. Strong ■ 214 >^ On the Hoe, Plymouth • John L, Stevens . 216 viii CONTEyTS. On Plymouth Hoe : A Reverie W. H. K. WrigU - paor 216 By the Plym Mortimer Collins 219 To the River Plym - *- H. I. Johns 220 111 the Woods by the Plym I. W. N. Keys 220 Coombe Vale, near Cornwood Fannie Ooddard 221 St Budeaux Churchyard A.K. 222 To the Tor at Tamerton H. W. 224 Watersmeet : Tavy and Walkham .> Rachel Evatis 225 Tavy Cleave Rachel Evans 226 The Tamar Spring • R. S. Hauher 228 On Tamerton Lake - '- P. W. 229 A Green Lane in Spring /. \V, N. Keys 230 The Dear Devon Lanes John Gregory 230 The Streams of Bonny Devon P. B. Doveton 231 A Devonshire Sketch - Rex: J. Marriott 232 The Forest of the Dartmoors R. J, Kiny 234 Tiily Hore John Gregory ■ 237 The Hill Farm R. J. Kiny . 240 In a Devonshire Lane in Sprmg I. W. N. Keys ■ 244 To a Lady, for a Present of Primroses from Devon John Greyory - 245 The Ivory Gate Mortimer Collins . 246 Farewell to Devonshire *^ Aywn. - 248 ^I^ William Browne (1590-16i5), Author of Britannm' 3 Pastorals. Hail thou, my native soil ! thou blessed plot, Whose equal all the world affordeth not ! Show me who can so many crystal rills, Such sweet clothed valleys, or aspiring hills ; Such woods, grand pastures, quarries, wealthy mine,s, Such rocks in which the diamond fairly shines ; And if the earth can show the like again, Yef^wiIT she fail in her sea-ruling men. Time never can produce men to o'ertake The fames of Grenville, Davies, Gilbert, Drake, Or worthy Hawkins, or of thousands more. That by their power made the Devonian shore Mock the proud Tagus ; for whose richest spoil The boasting Spaniard left the Indian soil Bankrupt of store, knowing it would quit cost By winning this, though all the rest were lost. B SWEET DEVON. A Translation. Sweet charming Devon, 'tis of thee I sing, To thee my strains a willing offering bring. When the bleak northern blast with fury reigns, Thy hills, thy vales, and all thy fertile plains, Braving the storms that devastate the land. By heaven's protecting power, unhurt they stand. Thy trees with rich umbrageous verdure crowned. In winter drear with foliage still are found. Thy purling rills still gently onward flow (For scarcely winter's icy power they know) ; Blending their pleasing murmurs with the songs So sweetly warbled by the feathered throngs. Thy skipping flocks feed peaceful in the plain. And Damon with his Delia — happy swain ! Respectfully presents her new-blown flowers ; Nor envies Philemon those blissful hours When 'neath his favourite beech tree stretched along, Content, he there repeats his Phillis' song. See the rich husbandman, without a fear Of direful storms — for Ceres crowns the year. And lo, his granary with corn abounds. beauteous shrubs that ornament our grounds. On which we oft such tender cares bestow, You seldom Winter's fatal influence know ; For in the garden of Exonia fair. Flora protects and makes you flourish there. But to impart what scenes like these inspire, 1 with a bolder hand must strike my lyre, Ah ! lest I should its feeble chords destroy. Excuse, my friends, such higher strains of joy. S. SWEET DEVON. ^ong of tf)e ©cbonian. From Wayside Warhles, by Edward Capeun. London : Sampson Low & Co. 1865. Home of the beautiful, home of the brave, Where the bright sea-gull troops whiten the wave, Where the bold crags in their glory appear, Haunt of wild horses and bonny red deer. Mother of heroes, my best song be thine, Beauty, ineffable beauty is mine ; Rino-doves that glow with each orient hue, And highlands enveloped in visions of blue. Where the grey " Tor," as in ages of yore, Mocks the mad war of the storm on the " Moor," Bravely exposing its huge granite crest, Or wrapt in a cloud like an angel at rest. Where the fair orchards in beauty are seen, Shaking their carmine bloom over the green ; And lily-white love-cots perch high on each hill, Or nestle like swans by the river and rill. Where the red-Devon is blowing his horn, And crimson-lipp'd poppies are wooing the corn, There, like an emerald sprinkled with foam. There is the land of my love and my home. Soft are her winds, as the breath of her kine, Fraf^rant her breeze, as the odour of wine ; Rich are the roses that sweeten the air, A.nd richer the maidens that carry them there. SWEET DEVON. Garden of ^YOod-cover'd grottoes and streams, Where the blue sky of fair Italy gleams, Where the thrush warbles, and meadow lark springs, To carol his tune to the beat of his wings. Love to thy matrons, and joy to thy sires, Happy am I when I sit by thy fires ; Where wine from the elder, the barley, and bee, And wine from the apple are waiting for 'me. From Sonnets by Rev. Charles Strong, M.A., 1835. L(;uiSA ! guarding still the name of WiNN, Rememberest thou Devonia's vernal hue. Her orchards blooming flowery vales within, Her dewy skies, and sea of softest blue ? Rememberest Green way, and th' expanding view Of Dart's full waters. Beck's thundering din, And northward, where, oak-garlanded anew, Down from her mountain-lair careered the Lyn ? That valley too, strange wilderness of stone. And the bold path hung midway from the surge, And sky-built crags, old Druid's misty throne ? These scenes remembered, I too may emerge Who gazed with thee, however dimly shown, Content, if seen within the picture's verge. SWEET DEVON. ^ Sicjb for ©ebon. From Sungleams and Shadows, by Edwaud Capern. London : Kent & Co., 1881. Bright haunt of the daffodil, myrtle, and rose, Of solitude sweet, and of pleasant repose, Where a welcome waits all with a heart in its hand, My Devon ! dear Devon ! my beautiful land ! May Evil for thee draw no shaft from a quiver, I loved thee, do love, and shall love thee for ever. Dear home of my fathers, when thinking of thee. In fancy I often am down by the sea. On old Northam Burrows, or Woollacombe Sands, Where Robert the phantom is twisting his bands. Then deem me no runaway-ingrate, O never ! First love of my heart, I shall love thee for ever. When Summer is come, and the welkin is fair. There's something of Paradise everywhere ; But bloom in perfection, and nature in tune, Are thine, O Devonia ! in beautiful June : Blest region of valley, hill, woodland, and river, I love thee, dear land, and shall love thee for ever. The meadows o' Warwick are dainty and sweet, And the fair fields o' Staffordshire soft to the feet ; But for rich mossy sward, sunny upland, and glen. Lane, coppice, and stream, give me Devon again. Yes : soul-bound to thee, which no fate can dissever, I love thee, dear land, and shall love thee for ever. SWEET DEVON. Thanks Memory, nurse o' my fancy and hope, I feel I am now where the combes are aslope, While innocent lovers are telling their tale. At Barricanc beach and in Collipriest vale, Where my Exe from the moorland weds Lowman's fair river : — Sweet land of my love ! I shall love thee for ever. Sonnet to ©rbon. By the Rev. William Pulling, Rector of Dyinchurch, Keut, 1846. Oft, dear Devonia, when I dwelt with thee, The couch of sleep I quitted, ere the dawn. To see from hill and mead the veil withdrawn, Which nightly hides thy sylvan scenery ! Nature beheld my face before the bee Her fragrant toil resumed ; ere clown or fawn Appeared in field or wood, in vale or lawn ; And ere the lark renewed his melody. Were I with thee again, more oft would day Find me awaiting, on a flow'ry height, Til' arrival of her world-adorning ray — To hear tlie birds salute the fount of light, To see the dew its brilliant tints display, And nature's robes with countless jewels bright. SWEET DEVON. 7 / / Co ©ebon, j From Lartmoor and Other Poems, by Joseph Cottle. 1S23. Devon ! whose beauties prove, from flattery free, The happy theme where wranglers all agree ; When troubles press, or health, that blessing, fails. What joy to range thy renovating vales !— " England's Montpelier," o'er thy downs to stray. Thy logans, camps, and cromlechs huge survey ; Thy rivers to their mountain source explore, Or roam refreshed beside thy craggy shore ; To track thy brooks, that to the passer by Babble their airs of liquid melody, Windino- through o-lens where seldom suns have shone. Like life, through all obstructions, gliding on. Thy distant ofl'spring, with th' enthusiast's zest, Extol thee still in charms perennial drest : Trace and retrace each haunt of childhood sweet, And, " Oh, my country I " in their dreams repeat. And if at length, when years are on their wane. Surmounting bars, and bursting every chain, To their " dear Devon ! " they return once more, What pleasure to renew the joys of yore ! (Now mellowed down by time to calm delight. Like eves broad orb, retiring from the sight ;) To mount thy wood-crowned hills, and there to stand ; Creation blooming round ! A Tempe land ! Shrubs, rocks and flowers, voluptuous in attire. Whatever eye can charm, or heart desire, And in the distance, through some opening seen. Old ocean, in his vast expanse of green. SWEET DEVON. ' Eo ©ebon. From The Year, A Poem, by John Bidlakb, D.D., 1818, Dear to these eyes, while yet these eyes could dwell On all thy sylvan beauties, when new joys Would meet me wandering by these mountain streams Hail, native land ! Hail, Devon ! thee, profuse Indulgent Nature decks with million charms ; Whate'er may kindle in the poet's breast The glow of fancy or whate'er may hold In fixed enchantment the fine eye of taste. Thy scenes may boast. Tho' seldom 'mid thy woods The nightingale prolongs her varied strain, Pouring ecstatic warblings to the moon ; Yet many a pastoral river sweetly glides In pure transparence thro' thy long drawn vales ; And every cot the liquid treasure owns, Clear sparkling o'er some lichen-tinted rock ; And Health, exulting, fans her rosy cheek With fragrant breezes from thy spreading downs, Where blooms the purple heath, while all around Else fairy prospects, crag enveloped hills, And sloping meadows, farms, and village towers Soft fading into heaven's cerulean blue. From The Fern Paradise, by Francis Geoiiok Heath. ."Sth Edition. London: Sampson Low & Co. 1878. " Amidst all our English counties, Devonshire stands unrivalled for the exquisite loveliness of its scenery. Few of those who have climbed its bold heights, crossed its SWBBT DEVON. 9 rugged moorlands, and wandered through its shady woods and its delightful green lanes, will be inclined to dispute this assertion, however familiar they may be with English landscapes. It is the marvellous variety of its scenery M^hich constitutes the peculiar charm of this county — the rugged boldness of its many hills contrasting with the soft grace of its valleys. Its majestic coast lines tower defiantly against the sky, both on its north and its south seaboard — now frowning with barren but lofty grandeur at the waves, now clothed from the highest point of the cliff to the water's edge with one deep dark mass of vegetation. But there is not even a grand monotony in the lines of noble cliffs along the coasts of Devonshire. There is no monotony at all ; for the grand rocks sink at intervals, to give place to magnificent bays, which sweep gracefully from cliff's point to cliff's point, and help to fling over the coast scenery of this, the most beautiful of English counties, the same aspect of variety which is its most charming characteristic. Those only who have explored the Devonshire coast along the Bristol Channel on the north, and along the English Channel on the south, and who are also familiar with the interior of the county, can properly realise the extreme magnificence of its landscapes. But we believe that thousands of the tourists who annually visit the western ' Garden of England ' — for Devonshire well deserves that appellation — whilst deeply impressed with the general love- liness of the county, nevertheless find it difficult to explain what it is that lends the peculiar character of softness a.nd grace to the scenery. Here is the secret. The whole county is richly and luxuriantly clothed with Ferns. The number and variety of the most exquisite forms of these beautiful plants to be found in Devonshire are equalled by those of to SWEET DEVON. no other county in the United Kingdom. Devonshire is emphatically the ' paradise ' of the British Ferns. There they are in very truth at home. The soil and the air are adapted to them, and they adapt themselves to the whole aspect of the place. They clothe its hill-sides and its hill- tops ; they grow in the moist depths of its vallej'S ; they fringe the banks of its streams ; they are to be found in the recesses of its woods ; they hang from rocks and walls and trees, and crowd into the towns and villages, fastening themselves with sweet familiarity even to the houses. Devonshire abounds in warm, moist, and shady nooks ; and Ferns delight in warmth, moisture, and shade. Though they love the warmth, they avoid the sun, and when acci- dentally exposed to its full influence, their delicate fronds become shrivelled and discoloured. Yet these beautiful plants do occasionally coquet with the tiny sunbeam which may perchance find its way through some crevice in their cool rocky home, or through the thick foliage of the hedge- row under whose darkest shade they love to gTOw. But even the Ferns are changeable in their moods, and fickle in their attachments, differing from one another in their habits and modes of growth. Some members of the lovely family will boldly grow in situations where, perched on rocky corners, away from the cool shelter of overhanging shrubs, they are exposed to the full blaze of the sun, and roughly blown upon by the wild force of the wind. Others only seek to bathe the tips of their delicate fronds in sunshine, hiding all beside under daiiq) iDasses of foliage. Others again will bear the sunlight if they can just find a refuge for their roots in the damp hedge-bank, in the moist crevices of walls and ruins, or amidst the interlaced branches of trees. There are others still which hide where not even the SWEET DEVON. 11 tiniest ray of sunlight can pierce the dark retreat which they choose, and where they can revel in soft and humid warmth. But all Ferns, even the sunniest of the modest family, love moisture and shade the best, and though they will sometimes grow in the full sunlight, become developed into their most mature forms in cool and shady situations. It is, then, the beautiful and unrivalled forms of Fern-life which fling over Devonshire scenery its almost undescribable charm. Peer at low tide into yon dark and dripping cavern which yawns upon the sea ! The bright sunshine that dances upon the rippling waves, pauses at the cavern's mouth, as if not daring to penetrate its gloomy depths. But just one tiny gleam of light has ventured to cross the threshold, and sparkling on the dripping water, it flashes through the opaque darkness a kind of electric light. As the water falls, drip ! drip ! into the pool below, the light increases, and then — oh glorious sight ! — you see at the side and on the roof of this lonesome sea-cave the beautiful Sea Spleenwort {As'plenium marinum), hiding its roots in the cavern walls, and spreading out its bright green and shining fronds, that they may luxuriate in the dark humidity of its chosen retreat. Or peer over yonder clifl", whose inaccessible sides overhang the seething waves ! Look closely into the shady cleft which nestles under yon projecting spur ! There you may see, far out of your reach, one of the most rare and exquisite of the British Ferns — the True Maideii-hair {Adiantum Cwpillus-veineris). Could you venture near enough to grasp it in your hand, you would indeed recognise that it is one of the most exquisite of plants. Its flne black Aviry frond-stems like a dark maiden's hair — it is most ajipropriately named — rise in clusters from its crown, the main frond-stems being branched with smaller and more 12 S]V£ET DEVON. beautiful hair-like stems, which bear upon their tender points the delicate, light-green, fan-shaped leaflets. Wandering through the cool lanes of Devonshire you may, too, meet with the fragrant Hay-scented Buckler Fern {Lastrea recurva), which emits so beautiful an odour when pressed in the hand ; with the delicately and transparently- leaved Marsh Buckler Fern {Lastrea thelypteris) ; with the Mountain Buckler Fern {Lastrea montana), whose silvery fronds make the air fragrant when you tread upon them in their incipient unrolled state. But these varieties are not to be commonly encountered in every Devonshire lane. And still rarer — though found in Devonshire — are the Lanceolate Spleenwort {Aspleniwm lanceolatimi), the tiny Forked Spleenwort {Asplenium septentrionale), the Tunbridge Filmy Fern {Hymenophyllwm tanhridgense), and Wilson's Filmy Fern {LLymenojjhyilwni unilaterale). The Moonwort {Botrychium lunaria), and the common Adder's Tongue {Ophioglossum vulgatum) are also Ferns of Devonshire growth. We do but enumerate these, and pass on to speak of some of the Ferns which may be seen in almost every Devonshire lane, and which, although common in the sense of being plentiful, are nevertheless among the most beautiful of the British Ferns." DSVON VALES. 13 From Weitward Ho I by Cliarles Kingsley. London : Macmillan & Co. " ' Far, far from hence, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills, and there The sunshine in the happy glens is fair, And by the sea, and in the brakes. The grass is cool, the sea-side air Buoyant and fresh, the mountain flowers More virginal and sweet than ours.' — Matthe^o Arnold. " And even such are those delightful orlens which cut the high table-land of the confines of Devon and Cornwall, openino- each through its gorge of down and rock, towards the boundless Western Ocean. Each is like the other, and each is like no other English scenery. Each has its upright walls, inland of rich oakwood, nearer the sea of dark green furze, then of smooth turf, then of weird black cliffs whicli range out right and left far into the deep sea, in castles, spires, and wings of jagged iron-stone. Each has its narrow strip of fertile meadow, its crystal trout steam winding across and across from one hill-foot to the other ; its grey stone mill, with the water sparkling and humming round the dripping well ; its dark rock pools above the tide -mark, where the salmon-trout gather in from their Atlantic wanderings, after each autumn flood ; its ridges of blown sand, bright with golden trefoil and crimson lady's fingers, its grey bank of polished pebbles, down which the stream rattles towards the sea below. Each has its black field of jagged shark's-tooth rock which paves the cove from side to side, streaked with here and there a pink line of shell-sand, 14 DEVON VALES. and laced with white foam from the eternal surge, stretch- ing in parallel lines out to the westward in strata set upright on edge, or tilted towards each other at strange angles by primeval earthquakes : — such is the ' mouth ' — as those coves are called ; and such the jaw of teeth which they display, one rasp of which would grind abroad the timbers of the stoutest ship. To landward, all richness, softness and peace ; to seaward, a waste and howling wilderness of rock and roller, barren to the fisherman, and hopeless to the shipwrecked mariner." ^fte Fales of JBe&oitia, From Ballads and Songs, by Edward Capern. London : Kent & Co., 1858. The Vales of Devonia ! What landscapes are seen So fertile in beauty. So golden and green ? There crowfoot and clover Allure the wild bee To gather sweet honey For Janie and me. Thy hills, Devonia, Thy meadows and streams, They haunt me for ever In visions and dreams ; And birds that in woodlands Make melody rare. And skies rich as sapphires And balm-scented air. DEVON VALES. 1* My dear old Devonia, What daughters are thine ! As fresh as the morning, And sweet as the vine, The joy of each dwelling, From castle to cot ; — There's little like heaven Where woman is not. Thy sons, too, Devonia, Have honoured thy name, Their deeds are thy poems, Their glory thy fame ; In arms, arts, and song, How colossal they stand ! Ihe life, light, and soul, And the shield of the land. Sweet Vales of Devonia, There's one thing I crave : Ye gave me a birthplace, O give me a grave : Let it be where the sunshine Can warm my last home, And a knot of your daisies Blow over my tomb. Ejje ©ebonsijirc ffilen, Edinburgh Review, xciii. 71. "Who that has seen it does not retain in his mind, as a type of rural beauty, the picture of some sequestered Devonshire Glen; its stream gushing through narrow meadows of the richest emerald, now turning the wheels W DEVON VALES. of the picturesque old mill, now chafing against a tiny barrier of rock, now sleeping in deep eddies under over- hanging groves of oak ; its farms bosomed in orchards ; its cottages half buried in the luxuriance of the flowering shrubs of their gardens ; its precipitous-looking ploughed fields covering the hill-sides, at one time with their waving crops, at another with their rich red fallow ? * The lanes,' as the Hand-Book prettily describes them, ' are steep and narrow, and bordered by tangled hedges, often thirty feet above the road, sheltering even the hills from the rigour of unfriendly blasts. In the deep shadowy combes the villages lie nestled with roseate walls of clay and roof of thatch, and seldom far from one of those crystal streams which enliven every valley of this rocky county.' If the mind of the traveller be in unison with such quiet prospects, he may enjoy them here in endless succession. But he must not be impatient of the leafy screen which generally confines his eye to the close home view. Without it the scene would lose its peculiar charm ; while, were it absent, the general conformation of the country is such, that the observer would seldom gain an extensive view to counterbalance the loss. He must be content with the occasional peep at some unexpected turn of the moorland tor, or the stripe of blue sea which bound the valley in opposite directions. It is a spot for repose and meditative enjoyment, and 'dreams that wave before the half shut eye:' not for eager admiration and novelty-hunting. According to the deep analogy which subsists between outward nature and human life, it may be said that while one might prefer to live amidst scenery of bolder features and freer cliaracter, and suggestive of a wider range of thoufjht, it is to such a nook as this tliat one would fain retire to die," DEVON' LANES. 17 fHarriagc is Hike a ©cbousliirc %^\xt. Rev. John Marriott. ' Crooks," referred to in the fourth verse, are formed of two poles, about ten feet' long, bent when green into the required curve, and when dried in that shape, are connected by horizontal bars. A pair of crooks thus com- pleted, is slung over the packsaddle on the beast of burden, one swinging on each side to make the balance true. They are used for carrying faggots furze, or logs of wood. In a Devonsliire lane, as I trotted alongr T' other Jay, much in want of a subject for song, Thinks I to myself, I have hit on a strain ; Sure, marriage is much like a Devonshire lane. In the first place, 'tis long, and when once you are in it, It holds you as fast as a cage does a linnet ; For howe'er rough and dirty the road may be found, Drive forward you must, there is no turning round 1 But though 'tis so long, it is not very wide ; For two are the most that together can ride ; And e'en then 'tis a chance V)ut they get in a pother. And jostle and cross, and run foul of each other. Oft Poverty greets them with mendicant looks, And Care pushes by them, o'erladen with " crooks ; " And Strife's grazing wheels try between them to pass. And Stubbornness blocks up the way on an ass. Then the banks are so higli, to the left hand and right, That they shut up the beauties around them from sight'. And hence, yovi'U allow, 'tis an inference plain. That marriage is just like a Devonshire lane. C IS DEVOX LANES. But, thinks I too, these banks, within which we are pent, With bud, blossom, and berry are richly besprent ; And the conjugal fence, which forbids us to roam. Looks lovely when decked with the comforts of home. In the rock's gloomy crevice the bright holly grows. The ivy waves fresh o'er the withering rose ; And the evergreen love of a virtuous wife Soothes the roughness of care, cheers the winter of life. Then long be the journey, arid narrow the way, I'll rejoice that I've seldom a turnpike to pay ; And, whate'er others say, be the last to complain, Though marriage is just like a Devonshire lane. IDrbon Hanrs anti t!}cir dissociations. Rkv. M. G. Watkins, M.A. From vol. ix. of the CurnhiJl Magazine. The great Italian poet, at the commencement of his song, finds himself lost in a wood, dai^k, rugged, and solitary. We shall l)egin by placing our readers in a labyrinth, bright, smiling, and picturesque. Nothing is easier than to find thi.s maze in the outskirts of most Devonshire villages. The West is prijverbially the land of green lanes, and though you must not go too far west, or the stone walls of the Cornish hills will disenchant you, no one can find it hard to lose himself in the network of lanes that suiTound any village in Devon. Let us transport our I'eader then to the lanes that skirt the myrtles and fuchsias of Budleigh Salterton, DEVON LANES. 19 Much like the " hollow lanes " of Hampshire, ahout which Gilbert White discourses so lovingly, they far surpass them in prodigality of floral wealth and abrupt change of scenery. Curious legends and old-world characters are to be found in them ; railroads have, for the most part, avoided them, and there are no more pleasant associations than those which crowd upon the mind in threading these lanes at any season of the year. Labyrinthine, indeed, are the lanes of South Devon to the stranger who wanders in them, hopelessly enclosed by lofty banks crowned with tall hedges, that twist in and out, and are interlaced by others, and circle round again under the blue spring sky, like the fabled stream that never blent its waters with the ocean. Passing beautiful, too, are they, filled with a chanoeful loveliness of briijht-coloured flowers and pendent ferns and darting dragon-flies ; while creeping bind-weeds knot themselves round gnarled oak-stems, with leaves more artistically cut than those of the acanthus, and berries, green, black and red, like the wampum on an In